Having Quotes (page 1019)
Can we go back to the part where you're in love with me?"No, because I'm not anymore. I've come to my senses."That's a damn shame, that is. You'll have to wait here a minute. There's something I need from inside."I'll not stand out here. I'm going home."I'll only come after you, Brenna," he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door.
Nora Roberts
Loving you is not a choice, It's who I am. Loving you is not a choice. And not much reason to rejoice, But it gives me purpose. Gives me voice to say to the world: This is why I live. You are why I live. Loving you is why I do. The things I do. Loving you is not in my control. But loving you, I have a goal. For what's left of my life... I would live, And I would die for you.
Stephen Sondheim


I try to believe everything I read in the newspapers, but I had difficulty with last week's account of the London vagrant who was found, after death, to be carrying 1,500 in small change in his socks. My reason for doubting the story is that I, too, like to carry small change in my socks, but I have found that with more that 15 or 20 worth it becomes impossible to walk.
Auberon Waugh
After all, let a man take what pains he may to hush it down, a human soul is an awful ghostly, unquiet possession, for a bad man to have. Who knows the metes and bounds of it? Who knows all it's awful perhapses, -those shudderings and temblings, which it can no more live down than it can outlive its own eternity! What a fool is he who locks his door to keep out spirits, who has in his own bosom a spirit he dares not meet alone, -whose voice, smothered far down, and piled over with...
Harriet Beecher Stowe
The scene is a writer's study, shabby, drafty but tax-deductible. The writer is reading the last hundred pages of his work in progress. For the past fifty or so, a kind of slow terror has been rising in his breast. All these pages had seemed necessary. They contain many good things. Ironies. Insights. And yet they seem to have a certain ineffable unsatisfactoriness. There is a word to describe this quality, the writer thinks, a horrible word. The B word. He begins to strike his forehead with...
Robert Stone